


Foully Hooked

by DinerGuy



Category: Psych
Genre: Family, Gen, Humor, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-20
Updated: 2011-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:43:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGuy/pseuds/DinerGuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn glared at his father, though he couldn't put quite the same feeling into the expression as he felt. "This is the worst vacation ever."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foully Hooked

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing Psych belongs to me. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

"Ow ow ow ow."

"Shawn, quit whining."

Shawn glared at his father, though he couldn't put quite the same feeling into the expression as he felt. "This is the worst vacation ever."

"You said that last time." Henry didn't seem affected by his son's statement; he just went back to baiting his own hook.

"At the time, that one was the worst," Shawn defended himself, sending dark thoughts towards his fishing line. Thankfully he had only pricked himself. He would hate to think what would happen if he'd full-on hooked himself. "But this one is worse, so it wins the prize as the worst vacation in the history of vacations. Couldn't we have just played Wii fishing or something? That's a nice, safe exercise."

"Exercise nothing," Henry snorted. "You sit on the couch and wiggle a remote. Nothing can compare to the real experience of being out on a boat, at one with nature …"

"Yeah, well, I don't think nature wants to be at one with someone who wants to eat it for dinner!"

Henry just rolled his eyes.

The next few minutes passed in relative silence. Shawn was poking around in the bait bucket, and Henry was enjoying a bit of peace and quiet. Not that he didn't like spending time with his son – on the contrary, he wished they would do it more often. No, it was more that he actually liked doing things with his son as opposed to listening to his son whining about how Henry's favorite sport was an inhumane atrocity to fishkind … or however Shawn had put it.

"I'm sorry," Shawn began.

Shawn wasn't the type to apologize for most things, especially when it came to objecting to fishing trips. Henry glanced over at his son in surprise, only to find Shawn holding a worm up at eye level. Rolling his eyes, he went back to fishing.

"It's a sacrifice, I know, but it's for the greater good," Shawn continued. "At least, that's what my dad says. I think it's because the only good coming out of it will be his dinner. I'd rather jerk chicken, so it's nothing personal, believe me."

Henry snorted. Shawn shot him a perturbed look before putting the worm on the hook. He cast his line into the water before looking at his father again. "There."

"What was that?" Henry asked.

"What? If I didn't explain it, I'd end up haunted by the spirits of the worm and all its other relatives that we plan to kill today."

Shaking his head, Henry secured his pole and stood. "I need a drink. You want one?"

"Sure," Shawn answered, staring distractedly at where his pole disappeared into the ocean. His mind was already wandering off on various movie-related tangents, Henry was sure of it.

Henry disappeared into the cabin, and Shawn could hear rattling as his father retrieved their refreshments. He sighed, settling back farther into his chair. He'd much rather be back at his apartment or at the Psych office right now. Not that he had had any big plans, but a marathon of Magnum PI would be lot nicer than being trapped on a boat with his father all afternoon, murdering innocent worms and fish.

Speaking of fish … Shawn sat up straighter as his line grew taught and his pole began to dip. It looked like a big catch, and Shawn couldn't help but smirk; If he could catch a bigger fish than any his dad hooked, it might just make the day worth it.

At the moment, though, he needed to actually pull the thing in before making judgments on size – although there was no way that fish was smaller than any his dad might land.

As Shawn began reeling in the fish, the pole by Henry's seat began wobbling as well. The line was stretched tight and the pole itself was bent nearly in half, moving back and forth as whatever was on the other end fought it.

If Henry lost his pole he would not be happy, and Shawn was not ready to become a captive audience to another of his dad's lectures. At least at home, he could find some excuse to slip out the door. Out here … He might as well be tied to the chair for the lack of escape routes.

Still trying to keep control of his own catch, Shawn reached for his father's fishing pole, biting his lip as he did; it was only a few inches out of reach. Then the fish at the end of Shawn's line seemed to tire of wrestling, and the tugging ceased. Shawn could feel the weight on the end that told him the fish was still there, but at least it was behaving itself. Sighing in slight relief, he reached for the other pole.

He transferred his rod to his right hand and shifted most of his weight to his left foot. The pole began to disappear over the railing, but he lunged and caught it just in time. As soon as his fingers touched the other pole, however, his own fish decided timeout was over.

The sudden yanking on the line threw Shawn off-balance, and combined with the fact that he was already leaning over the railing, knocked him off his feet entirely. He barely had time to yell before he hit the water.

Henry had just started back up to the deck when he heard the shout and following splash. His stomach dropped, and he nearly tripped over himself trying to get back to where he had left his son.

Shawn had disappeared, as had both fishing poles. But Henry was less worried about the poles than he was about his son. He rushed to the railing, his eyes desperately searching the water. If Shawn had hit his head when he went under, he wouldn't stand much chance of making it out safely. And the longer Shawn was in the water, the slimmer that chance became.

"Shawn!" Henry shouted. "Shawn!"

He was about to dive in after his son when he heard an answering shout. It was coming from the other side of the boat, and Henry raced across to lean over the other railing.

Shawn was treading water near the side of the boat, and he gave Henry a grin as soon as he spotted his father. "Little help?"

Snatching a life ring from the deck, Henry tossed it over, maintaining a grip on the rope that held it to the boat. "Grab on."

"Really? I never knew that's what these were for," Shawn quipped, reaching for the ring.

Henry rolled his eyes, something of which he found himself doing often around his son. Even paddling in the ocean beside a boat, waiting for help, his son found some excuse to make a smart aleck remark. Once Shawn had a firm grip on the preserver, Henry pulled in the rope, reaching over the side to haul him onto the deck when he was close enough.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, handing his son a towel.

"All right." Shawn shrugged. "We lost the fishing poles." He chuckled. "I'd say the fish got their revenge."

Henry shook his head. "That was you, Shawn."

"I didn't do it on purpose," Shawn objected. "Though I wouldn't put it past the worms, actually." He grinned again. "It might have been a conspiracy."

"You sure you didn't knock your head against the boat?" Henry asked, though he couldn't help but grin at the ridiculousness of the statement.

"Admit it. You know they took it out on you. I wanted chicken, anyway."


End file.
